HEAVEN TEARS
by Harry Miste
Summary: The meaning of terrorism changes... again.
1. PROLOGUE Part 1

There was something chilling, almost forbidding about the air. The man with the Briefcase looked around the deserted trailer park at midnight. He closed his eyes, shielding the world from seeing the green evil that layed behind them. Nobody would be awake to see the man in the black suit, covered in blood.

Emir Parkreiner was his name. It had been an approximate five minutes ago that he had chased down his last foe, the Last Smile. He almost felt a sense of fulfillment when he gunned down Last Smile, his Father, his Servant, his Worst Enemy. For quite a while, he'd been replaying the entire scene in his mind.

_Into the basement. Down the stairs. Left turn. Right turn. Left turn. Left turn. Right turn. Right turn. Right turn. Back Him into a corner. One, two, three, four, five bullets. The man in bondage falls down. A satisfying feeling. Then, a sudden dizziness. Throw down the Golden Gun. Drop the briefcase. Open it. Weep uncontrollably. You are the Bloody Heartland. You are Garcian Smith. You are Emir Parkreiner._

All a memory. The same memory on loop; Emir's body on a state of auto-pilot. His body tensed uncontrollably as he imagined himself plugging Last Smile full of bullets. Suddenly, Emir felt free at last. No longer bound by Father, by Harman, he was free at last. But all Emir could feel was emptiness.

He wasn't always Emir. For a while, he was also Garcian Smith, member of the world's greatest assassins, the Killer7. They were elite killers; no job could not be undertaken. Wanted a target behind a tough lock? Coyote was your man. Needed a fast runner to gun down your victim? Con would be happy to oblige. Needed a stealth expert to sneak in unnoticed? The one known as Kevin could fill the role. Did you want your victim to be gunned down by a complete badass? Just call for the Killer7's resident badass, Dan.

Garcian was the Cleaner, a specialist in disposing bodies. While he wasn't the greatest in the team, his skills were undeniably useful. He possessed a curious ability: the power to resurrect the dead. It came in handy when the reckless comrade got ahead of themselves. All he needed was a body part of the dead, and he could bring them back to life. Rumour had it that he also possessed powers of clairvoyance.

Though all of it was in the past now. The killer7 are dead. Not even Garcian could resurrect them. Pure Smile saw to that. Dan, KAEDE, Con, Coyote, Kevin, MASK... Harman; all dead.

Ironically, Emir had killed them all before.

A small thought began to overlap the recurring memory in his head. _Back to the school_, over and over again. Back to That Place, the place where they all died. Perhaps it was Emir's loneliness - he'd had that loneliness for three years now - but he knew he had little time. Emir was careless, killing Him was possibly the wrong idea. But even He admitted it himself; maybe he deserved to die. If he did let Him live, then there would be plenty of people out for Emir's blood. He'd be defenseless, even for an assassin like himself. He knew what he did was right, for himself at least.

Emir weighed up his options: go back to That Place or stand around like a fool. He looked to the right of him. A blood-stained sports car, bought off by his late informant. Coburn Elementary couldn't have been less than thirty minutes, provided he avoided traffic. It would be the one place where he could find even a small clue... or at least relive the moment.

Above him, fireworks flew through the sky, to the East. Moving in co-ordinated paths, directed towards the Enemies of the West. If they were still trying to get rid of the Smiles, all of it was in vein. He had deal with the last one already. The Last Smile, the Father, the Servant, Kun Lan. Was the West just hellbent on eradicating the East? The world had finally been at peace, and now all that remained of that peace was quickly being destroyed. The peace that was destroyed by a smile.

Emir decided on an action. He grabbed an odd-shaped key, one that could be confused for an ancient relic, and opened the car door. Emir checked the front glovebox. No reason why he couldn't shield his eyes, at least. Mills must have forgotten to take his thick sunglasses out; Emir was going to take them for himself. The sunglasses, at the least, shielded his eyes from the rest of the world. To see a man with glowing green eyes would not be taken well by the rest of the world.

Driving along the highway, Emir noticed that there was a plethora of public service vehicles zooming about on the highway; police cruisers, fire trucks, ambulances. They seemed to be going along the same general direction. Nobody even bothered to notice the red sports car with rocket boosters attached to the back. Perhaps they were in a hurry.

* * *

The Union Hotel was occupied. That was strange. The only two residents besides the staff were two impudent old men; lounging around the penthouse in complete calm, spending their days playing chess and telling war tales. Very few people wanted anything to do with the hotel, especially with the new one two blocks away. The establishment's financial resources were being kept afloat by the government, for a plea of silence regarding a matter of national security.

The clerk, Edo McAllister, was unusually quiet. Normally, he'd be talking his head off at non-existing guests, trying to fight the boredom of being at a ghost hotel. A recurring joke by the other staff was that Edo had powers of clairvoyance; whenever he wasn't talking for most of his work day, there would be a guest.

It just so happened that there was a guest.

He was in his thirties, slightly higher than average, regular build, Irish-American; nothing really stood out about him. He sported a black business suit with a red tie. Nobody knew that he carried a handcannon in a holster, hidden by the jacket.

'Ah,' Edo said, noticing the man walking in, 'welcome to the Union Hotel. Will you be staying or just visiting a guest?'

'I'm looking for this man,' the man said, taking out a Polaroid print of an old man in his sixties, wearing a Roman Catholic priest's outfit in a wheelchair. Edo stared at the picture, adjusting his glasses as he did so. He recognised him.

'Oh, you must want Mr...'

Edo retreated to the computer near his desk and typed a few letters.

'Mr. Harman Smith?'

The man in the suit smiled devilishly. 'That's him alright. You mind if I go see him?'

Edo made a bow, a small gesture of courtesy in the hotel. 'He's in the penthouse suite. Please take the elevator. Would you like a message sent to him?'

'Yeah, sure.' The man checked his holster, confirming the gun was in there. 'Tell him the Hellion's here.'


	2. PROLOGUE Part 2

The Hellion, Dan Smith, made his way to the penthouse suite. For whatever reason, the elevator was in desperate need of repair, or somebody in the architecture business had a sick sense of humour. In order to access the next floor, one has to find the correct keycard. The trip from the Lobby to the Second Floor was free of charge, though any attempt to go upwards any further would be met with a light electric shock. Dan had already experienced it three times already.

_Keycards to get to the next floor_, Dan thought, _feels like a videogame_.

The second floor key was easy enough to find. It was conveniently located on the floor in front of the elevator. The Third Floor was a bit harder to find. Dan had a look around, and found it in a potted plant close to the elevator. In retrospect, the Hellion questioned his stupidity, though it might have just been an exaggeration on his part. The Fourth Floor was a bit more confusing. The keycard was hidden in a crack in the wall. The problem was, though, human hands couldn't reach it. For this, Dan needed to bring out his trusty six-barreled revolver: the Demon Gun. Two well-placed shots was more than enough for the keycard to fall out, one at each end of the crack. It opened wider and the card fell onto the carpet.

By the Fifth Floor, Dan was already sick of the wild goose chase. Memories of him working with the Killer7 soon surfaced, and he found himself reliving experiences once forgotten. The Celtic Tower, where he first fought the Heaven Smiles; going after his former mentor, Curtis Blackburn; duelling with the Handsome Men at Times Square; all of these experiences made him wish he was back with the Smiths.

That made him realise something. As a Smith, he was forced to be a Persona for his boss, Harman Smith. He was forced into servitude, and even then he could only live for certain periods of time. Ever since that moment, Dan has harboured a hatred for the man that enslaved him. His freedom, however, came after dying. While fighting against Heaven Smiles in Coburn Elementary, a school in Seattle, he was confronted by a Pure Smile, a demonic creature that was pure black. Dan had tried to kill it, but to no avail. He found himself caught in the suicide bomber's explosion, and found him falling into his own pure black world.

Then he woke up in an alley outside the Union Hotel. And he remembered that Garcian, the second-in-command, encountered Harman and his friend/enemy at the hotel. Dan was able to see it; he just had no control over Garcian. Dan knew that if he was still there, he could exact his revenge. Put a Demon Shell into a gun, fire the patented Collateral Shot right between the eyes of his former employer and the man who restored and took control of his life, and begin anew.

The Hellion was searching around the Fifth Floor. He couldn't see any indication of a keycard anywhere. The potted plants hadn't had any buried inside, there were no cracks in the wall, no neon signs that yelled **'HERE'S YOUR CARD'**, there was nothing but himself in the isolated hotel floor.

Then there was a small giggle, that erupted into a great big cackling.

* * *

Emir skidded across the road, grinding to a complete halt at a sidewalk near the school. He was surprised to see a commotion being caused out near the school. Emir saw a variety of vehicles, mainly police cars, ambulances and fire trucks. It was a bit surprising.

What was even more surprising was to see that the school was _on fire_.

Emir got out of the car and walked to the nearest vehicle, an ambulance. Two paramedics were stationed there: a short, wiry young woman that was clearly depressed seeing the commotion, and a stocky, middle-aged man more interested in helping those still inside. Emir approached the closest one, the stocky one, and tapped him on the shoulder. The male medic spun around, and looked at Emir with a face of disappointment and frustration. He clearly didn't notice the blood on the suit.

'Who the hell are you? You know anything about this?'

The medic's New England accent reminded Emir of a close friend.

'I'd like to know myself. Who are you?'

The medic spun around to look at the burning school, then turned back to Emir. 'Name's Bane. Horace Bane. And you are?'

Emir was hesitant. He'd been so caught up in trying to figure out what the hell was going on that he'd completely forgotten to make up an alibi.

'Alan. Alan Blackburn.' The name Blackburn was convenient. It reminded Emir of a past enemy. Bane frowned, and returned his eyes to the burning building.

'Firefighters reported seeing fresh corpses. Adults and children alike. Gunned down. Some even exploded.' Bane spat on the ground in disgust. 'Who the fuck would do such a thing? Those Smilies, maybe, but they shouldn't be able to use weapons.'

Emir was confused. How can there be corpses? It was three years ago since the incident, right?

'Uhh,' Emir fumbled around for the right words. 'You know the year, right?'

Bane turned around again, this time with confusion. 'What, you fucking retarded? It's 2012.'

Normally, Emir would be startled. Shouldn't it have been 2015? Regardless, it seemed he was wrong. But that was the least of his concerns. The female paramedic's weeping was considerably getting worse. Bane, concerned for his co-worker, approached her.

'Melissa? You alright?' Bane slowly walked towards her.

Then, as if she had endured a massive amount of pain, she yelled out in agony. And then she did something nobody expected.

_She exploded_.

* * *

'Harman...'

'Yes, Kun?'

'I should've told you what I did while we were resting...'


	3. PROLOGUE Part 3

For some people, the explosion would have caused massive damage. Bane learnt that the hard way, and soon he found himself on the wrong distance of an explosion: too close. The ambulance near Melissa exploded, causing shrapnel to fly out to all directions. Emir reacted quickly, ducking under a relatively pristine ambulance. Some were not so lucky, and found sharp pieces of metal flying into their faces. Others were claimed by the explosion itself.

In the confusion, Emir decided that it was now or never. In the explosion, a stray tire had knocked the door of the school wide open.

_Just my luck_, Emir thought. To check, he opened the briefcase to look for his weapons. Just as he thought, his personal stash. The Golden Gun, sitting perfectly as it was always in a reserved space at the top of the briefcase; a compact pistol tucked away at the far-left corner of the bottom compartment, the Glock 19; a SIG P239 at the bottom-right; and a H&K MK23 kept in the middle. To the left of the MK23 was a Strider SMF combat knife Emir kept for close encounters.

_Three pistols, a revolver and a knife. Just as expected._

Emir took out the Glock 19, checked for any bullets inside - a full clip, infact - and snuck into the front door of Coburn Elementary. That Place.

Walking into the front door was a refreshing experience. It reminded him of the Event three years ago. Or two minutes ago, it seemed. Coburn's atrium was a wide passageway with only two ways to go, left or right. Left took you to a stairway, where the computer terminals were. To the right was the school's hallways.

The first thing Emir needed was the Vision Ring. Garcian had sacrificed it to learn about Emir Parkreiner, and to learn the Truth.

Emir took a left turn, then a 90 degree turn and ascended the stairway, briefcase up to his waist. To the left, the Data Room. Straight forward, a blank wall, where Harman's Room should be.

He walked up to the Data Room door, and tried to open it. Alas, the knob would not turn. Emir took out the pistol and fired two rounds into the doorknob, collapsing onto the floor. The door swung open, and Emir casually strided forwards into the room.

The Data Room was a mere series of terminals for the use of Coburn Elementary. Emir scanned the entire room. With or without the Vision Ring, he still possessed extraordinary eyesight. One of the terminals caught his eye. One split into two.

He walked over to it, and found the Vision Ring stuck in one of the small crevasses. The ring fit perfectly; human hands could not penetrate any gap between the Ring and the half-terminal. As it was for nearly every situation Emir had been in, the best solution was always one that could be solved with a piston launching a metal jacketed projectile. Emir aimed the Glock at the terminal and calmly pulled the trigger. The ring, along with the Odd Engraving near it, flew out as the half-terminal broke down. With his left hand, Emir caught the ascending ring, and stared at it. A small, silver-based ring. He slid it on his right ring finger.

A sudden dizziness came over him. Emir fumbled around the room for a bit, trying to keep steady. His mind was about to collapse, his body felt queasy and weak, his vision fading every second. The Glock slid off Emir's hand and onto the floor. Emir eventually collapsed on the floor, passing out.

A small noise came from the room.

'Emir, my boy, I wasn't aware you were so weak. This is the Ace brought out by the Yakumo?'

The man snapped his fingers. At that moment, Emir's body split into thousands of tiny red particles, and forced them away from each other, like two hundred positive electric charges. Then, the Blood Particles formed back together, and from the ashes of Emir Parkreiner, a man in full-black suit, green eyes and pure evil, came another man. A man in a white suit, purple shirt and black tie. A man with regular eyes. A man of life giving.

Garcian Smith, the cleaner.

---

Meanwhile, in other parts of the world, the Killer7 were slowly coming back to life.

Harman Smith's plan was coming together.

---

Kevin Smith found himself sleeping in a janitorial closet. Rather than his assortment of sunglasses and pants, he was wearing a yellow jumpsuit and thick eyeglasses. Kevin stared at the small room. On the floor was a 35-year old man, stabbed to death at the face and stripped of clothing. Not good.

Kevin kept calm, even for one finding a body he'd just killed. He stared out the door. Modern English architecture.

With nowhere to go, he decided to do what he always did. Kevin took off his glasses. And slowly, the transparency of his body became null as he turned invisible.

Kevin Smith. The Invisible Man.

---

KAEDE Smith found herself waking up in an apartment room. The seedy flat was painted shades of the monochrome spectrum, with the odd neon sign glaring into the room. The bedsheets were stained. The floor was slightly muddy with blood. KAEDE walked up to the body. There was a man wearing absolutely nothing. One shot to the forehead had to be the cause of death. Blood was stil seeping from the man's body.

KAEDE's hand went subconciously to her navel. She felt a warm liquid on it. Looking at it, she noticed she was wearing a white, blood-stained dress.

_Damn it_, she thought, staring at the body. _Where the hell am I?_

Without thinking, KAEDE tried to open the door to escape. Wasn't working. As she turned the doorknob, the knob refused to turn.

_Locked_. As KAEDE weighed up her decisions, she noticed that there was a small razorblade on the bedside table. KAEDE's time in the Killer7 showed that she was perfect at breaking down obstacles, by...

_Ah, fuck it. I'll do it._

KAEDE snatched the razor, faced towards the locked door, and hesitated. For a while, she tried to look for a different way. But there WAS no other way. The razorblade went straight to her wrist.

Blood spurted out in a shower of red mist.

If you could see well enough, you would notice the figure in bondage gear, eyes shielded by her left hand, motioning towards the locked door. The stubborn wooden door burst open.

_I still got it._

---

Coyote Smith bumped his head against the above bunkbed. He had no idea that he'd just passed out. Rubbing his head in pain, he found himself in a small hotel room. The daylight burned in the skin of the civilians below him. The pale-green hotel room itself seemed to be very clean. Linen on the bed was neatly pressed and folded. The small table in the corner was dusted thoroughly; a mint on each corner of the square table.

The question on Coyote's mind was this: _Where the fuck am I?_

Outside, the lives of the people outside were unfolding, each a mini-drama in their own respect. Children were playing. Merchants were selling goods. Businessmen frantically panicked at how their meeting went. The small alleyway happened to be filled with cops.

A small knock on the door in the hotel room. Coyote whipped around and readied his Magnum revolver. He'd always aimed it awkwardly, preferring to hold it upside down. It still didn't detriment his ability to fire his own small bullet that could kill anything in sight.

'Mr. Dane? Your room service is here. Can you-' a slight pause, 'open the door? I lost my key, sorry.'

_Shit_, Coyote thought, looking for the nearest possible escape route. The only way to escape would be through the door.

Not for Coyote Smith, though.

He noticed the window, held together by a padlock, linked to a fire escape. There were two problems though, the fire escape was on the other side as well as the padlock, and there was no other way to open the window from the inside.

Not only that, trying to punch your way through the window was idiotic. You'd need a medium to break the glass. Coyote searched frantically for something. He came across a metal tray that was wider and longer than his fist. He snatched it, aimed it carefully at the window, and punched his way through the glass. It was just enough for his arm to fit in. Shards of glass had fallen onto the outside alleyway.

'Sir? Sir? What's going on?'

Coyote was pressed for time. He took out his faithful lockpick, a small wire carefully created, and fit it inside the lock. Within four seconds, he had broken the lock, letting it fall down to the ground. It made him feel better; his favourite pastime was picking padlocks. Coyote slid the window just enough for his body to fit into the gap.

'Sir? I've got the key, I'm coming in!'

By the time the maid entered, Coyote already slipped out the door, onto the fire escape, and putting his other ability to good use; Coyote was escaping by jumping high onto other rooftops.

---

Harman gave a small smile to Kun Lan. He'd never expect him to be so cunning in his plan. Creating a backup creature if the Smile's were defeated. He never expected it. Of course, Harman had never thought of a backup plan. All he had was the Killer7, and Harman Smith must already be at work getting him to join his cause.

_This'll be interesting._


	4. PROLOGUE Part 4

'H-how'd you do that?'

Garcian was weakly holding his silenced pistol up at Harman Smith's face, who seemed to intimidate Garcian considering he was holding a Tommy Gun in his hands and the newly-stolen Golden Gun in his back pocket.

'My boy,' Harman Smith said, 'there are things you don't get. Let me fill you in...'

---

_How the fuck is this thing doing that?_

Dan was firing constantly at the Heaven Smile. Each bullet seemed to curve around it, as if the bullets feared the creature. The Smile approached with a sadistic glee, and Dan was moving back as he fired. Besides the Hellion and the Smile, there was nobody else around. The floor was completely silent.

Running out of options, Dan reloaded and put in a special bullet he was saving into the chamber. He pointed it straight up into empty air.

Well, not exactly empty air. Where the Smile should have been, became millions of tiny white particles. As the dots flew out of the air, the Smile transformed into something more sadistic. A pale man in a green suit.

---

MASK was dead. He was too late. Kun Lan got to him first, at a seedy wrestling ring in New Mexico.

So was the fate of Con as well. He was preparing to run for his school's athletics carnival when Kun Lan got to him as well.

And they were right by his side.

---

'Just who the fuck do you think you are?' was Dan's question. The Demon Shell was still in the chamber, ready to fire at any given moment.

'_Calma, Senor Smith_,' MASK replied, drawing out his quadruple-barrelled twin grenade launchers, 'let us not get too hasty. My employer wishes to speak with you, _mano-a-mano_.'

'Do what he says,' Con said, drawing out his automatic pistols, 'or else I get to kill you.'

Dan kept his eyes on the target. 'As for you, how 'bout you answer me how the hell you got there? You traitors or something?'

'Traitors?' Kun Lan laughed at the thought. 'No, no, they are... ah, _disciples_. I have begun to teach them the principles of the Yakumo, and I-'

Dan interrupted. '_Blah blah blah _who cares? I don't care who gets in my way, all I want is to put a bullet right through the old man's eyes.'

'Wouldn't we all, Danny?'

'Shut up, pipsqueak. You wanna die? Huh?' Dan's index finger was twitching erratically.

'I see you have a lot of pent-up rage. Saving it for Harman, I see?'

Dan merely nodded.

'Well, we have a common enemy. I'm offering you a chance to kill a god, and you seem to be more interested in biting the hand that is going to feed you.' Kun Lan chuckled. 'I was warned approaching you would be... dangerous.'

'_Amo_, if it pleases you, I can subdue Mr. Smith into a more safe location.'

'No thank you, MASK. I believe I can handle him.

'So, back to our deal. I give you the key,' Kun Lan lifted the pass from his pocket, 'and you surrender your guns to my command.'

Dan didn't respond. Instead, he extracted the Demon Shell from his revolver and put twelve regular bullets in it.

'So, let me get this straight: you expect _me_, the man that was once a slave of your most feared enemy, the man that has killed countless of those hellspawns _you_ sent to kill me, the motherfucking Hellion to give up his fourth life?'

Dan took aim.

'_How about FUCK YOU instead?_'

He fired.

---

'Confronting Emir was the first step. When you killed him, you destroyed any link to the past you may have once had. When you killed off your father, you destroyed any hope for the future. All that remains was the present.'

'Let me guess, you took care of that?'

Harman Smith nodded. 'Indeed. It was my ultimate revenge. The man that subdued and forced me into labour, and the man that toyed with me like a puppet. I wanted revenge. And it was, when I arrived at the Union Hotel that night, that I took the last moments of my life to take two others.

'But as soon as that happened, something changed in the world. Present events fluctuated from the past to the future. You must have seen its effects, correct? It is 2012, and yet was your last job not a year before that? When you killed the remnant of the future, time no longer had meaning. There are particular places where time appears to be a constant, others have years seperated into seconds. We are the cause for this.'

Garcian opened the boot of his car, and stashed the briefcase in. 'Let me guess, we gotta go and save the world, right?'

Harman put the Tommy Gun in the boot on top of the briefcase. 'The world is beyond repair. That is not what I came here to tell you.'

'Then what was it?'

The words stunned Garcian into a brief moment of paralysis.

'The Killer7 are still alive.'

---

Kun Lan had to check up on something. The chessboard was not to be touched in his absence.

Harman peered out of the penthouse window. _Someday_, he thought.

_Someday he'll return to his senses_.

---

Garcian was driving down an empty freeway. There were no vehicles at this time, on this particular route. There never were in this part of Seattle.

'So let me get this straight: Dan's gone psycho, MASK and Con switched sides and everyone else's split up?'

'I could be wrong.' Harman Smith adjusted the rear-view mirror to check whether anyone else was following. 'I sensed a level of anger in Daniel Smith unlike anything else. MASK de Smith and Con Smith have been turned. Refer to them as MASK de Lan and Con Lan from now on. This is a more appropriate name.'

'And you're saying that we need the crew back to stop this "new threat"?'

Harman Smith remained silent for a while. Light illuminated the barren road. 'I felt something else. A disturbance, unlike East or West. It was... how can I put it? Divided, yet capable of repairing itself. I've never felt anything like it before.'

'And what's all this shit about _feeling_?'

Harman Smith turned to look at the half-focused Garcian. 'You cannot feel it, as Harman has no doubt removed your ability to sense things beyond the realm of Heaven. But I can. And there was something... but for the life of me, I'm not able to figure it out.'

Garcian flicked the radio on, showing only static. He played with the dial until he hit a station broadcasting a soft tune. 'So, what's the first step into getting everyone?'

'Start with the strongest.'


	5. PROLOGUE Part 5

The bullet, almost miraculously, swerved past Kun Lan and hit Con in the face. The kid spun around, blood spewing from his eyes, screaming in agony. Taking advantage of the situation, Dan charged at MASK, taking two more shots. The big lucha libre wrestler seemed to absorb the bullets as if they were food, and replied by charging towards Dan. He tackled the Hellion to the ground, knocking their weapons away. Dan and MASK got up, and engaged in melee combat. For every five punches Dan threw, MASK replied with a heavier punch. MASK was regarded as the bruiser of the Killer7 in close combat, and Dan certainly felt why. Pouncing on MASK didn't work, it just angered him as he tossed you off. Kicks to the chest didn't faze the big man; all he did was laugh it off and send his opponent flying to the ground.

Dan was knocked back down, and he was left at the mercy of MASK. The wrestler sauntered over to his grenade launchers, picked them up, and approached Dan. He tried to crawl back, but by that stage MASK had kept a firm foot placed on his lower sternum. Air rushed out of the Hellion's mouth as he began to struggle for oxygen.

'_Mios dio_,' MASK said, 'the great Hellion is being defeated so easily. I was under the impression that this was going to be a challenge. I appear to have been misinformed.' MASK aimed the grenade launcher right into Dan's face. 'So long, Mr. Smi-'

Dan took the opportunity to sweep MASK's legs from under him. The wrestler came crashing down, landing face first. Dan took the opportunity to rush over to his gun and fire it. The bullet lodged itself in MASK's left temple. and he didn't get back up this time.

The Hellion pushed himself off the ground and scanned the floor for Kun Lan. He must have disappeared in the ensuing combat. More interested in staying alive, he rifled through MASK's suit. There was a clear keycard, just the one he wanted. It must have been a duplicate. Without a second thought, Dan swiped it into the elevator and approached the-

-Kun Lan had him in a chokehold. Dan was pinned to the wall adjacent to the elevator while the elevator in question was being attented to by guests. Dan struggled to breathe, and tried to reach for his Demon Gun. Kun Lan was holding it in his left hand while his right hand, mystically shining without an outside source, had the Hellion by the neck. He tried to kick him off, but to no avail; Kun Lan was a fiend with a stalwart constitution, as Harman Smith might say.

'I hadn't expected you of all people to be here,' Kun Lan said, 'but I suppose fate has finally rewarded me. If you will not go peacefully...'

Kun Lan's hand began to shine brighter, sending Dan into a tense trance.

'...then I will force-'

The elevator opened, and a hail of bullets - a carefully aimed hail - pelted against Kun Lan. The bullets seemed to faze him, as he struggled to focus against the rain of lead. None of the bullets seemed to be doing any damage, it was who that was firing.

Harman Smith moved out of the elevator and pushed Kun Lan back, who dropped the Demon Gun retreated out of the hallway. Garcian pursued him, only to find he'd escaped at the corner. He'd disappeared. Harman Smith attented to Dan, who was choking and gasping for air. Dan had never seen Harman Smith before, ensuring his safety.

'Daniel Smith, can you hear me?'

With the last stamina reserve he had, the Hellion punched Harman Smith off him, struggling up to his feet.

'Never,' he panted, 'never call me that again.'

Dan collapsed.

---

The Hellion woke up in the backseat of Garcian's car, which appeared to be moving. He briefly overheard their conversation as he slowly gained conciousness.

'-telling me that they were hypnotised?'

'He calls it _enlightenment_, but rest assured, it's a form of hypnotism. Daniel suffers the same symptoms, though it seems to be benign. I cannot say whether it'll be delayed or if Daniel can overcome it.'

'What about the other two, MASK and Con?'

Harman Smith shook his head. 'They were fully affected. They're now loyal bodyguards of Kun Lan. Harman must be growing weak: his loyal servants now rogue, his earthly embodiment twisted into something more visceral, and now his enemy just picked up two of his former servants. He'll be back, and heavier.' He leant over to face Dan. 'You should be feeling better now, right?'

Dan wearily sat up. He looked around. Dawn was settling in now, as cars slowly moved in and out of the highway. The lights were cued to turn off in a few minutes, yet they seemed to be brighter than in darkness. Garcian was gently beating on the steering wheel, a fast yet repetitive tune Dan recognised as a familiar TV theme. He craned his neck upward, and in his mind he was absorbed in Times Square. Harman Smith was merely staring out the window.

'So,' Harman Smith said, 'where to now?'

'I got a place. Mills' old house, down in Elliot Bay.' Garcian ran off the house's furnishings as if he was reading off a checklist. 'Two story, one massive basement, an armory with nice weapons, and a link to government files. Should we make that our impromptu headquarters?'

'I suppose that shall do us for the time being. We still need to recruit the rest of the Killer7.'

'You never told me,' Dan said, 'why you rescued me in the first place.'

'A simple explanation.' Harman Smith kept facing where the car was heading. 'This feud has been going on for too long. Harman and Kun Lan need to learn the principles of civillity. If two old deities want to fight, they can do it in their own time. Instead, they want to hire others to do their work for them. Now that we're no longer servants, we can strike at our former masters.' Harman Smith smirked devilishly. 'Do you not feel the same way, Daniel?'

'What the fuck did I just say? I said don't call me that.'

'My apologies. In any case, the Killer7 must be recruited. I have a certain plan in mind, but it requires both you and Garcian's co-operation.'

'Another thing,' Garcian said, ''bout this: where does Emir fit into all of this?'

Harman Smith sighed. 'Emir's dead, my boy. Garcian Smith is the prime entity now. Emir died when you killed your father. Garcian was seperated. Spiritually, physically, mentally; Garcian was alone. Just like Emir.'

'Now I have you guys.'

Dan scoffed. 'Don't think I'm here for the hell of it. Only reason I'm here's 'cause I have no choice. The instant we win, I am outta here.'

'Watch your words, Hellion,' Harman Smith said, 'or else they shall be your unbecoming.'

'Fuck you.'

'Nice little family we got here.' Garcian said.

'You too.'

---

'Well, shit.'

Coyote noticed a man weeping out in the street.

---

'Who the-'

KAEDE noticed a woman crying in the corner.

---

'...'

Kevin saw a man silently whimpering on his table.

---

All three of them exploded, taking other human lives with them. While the Killer7 were not affected, the world reacted as if their own lives were taken. The media reacted quickly, noticing the similarities between this incident, an undisclosed incident in Washington, and the Heaven Smile incidents. They dubbed it 'Heaven Tears', the successor to the initial wave of terrorist attacks. One news outlet, the Washington Post, dubbed it as the progenitor for the new rebirth of terrorism. In response, many national governments initiated a state of terror, despite these only being isolated incidents. Some third-world countries instigated martial law, in an attempt to counter any terrorist attacks. Whatever the reaction, one thing was widely known.

The meaning of terrorism changed... again.


	6. PROLOGUE Part 6

KAEDE scrambled across the panicking apartment complex. People scrambled out of the burning building. Debris fell on top of objects, on top of people, on top of anything obstructing its gravitational path. In everyone's haste, they didn't notice the barefoot woman wielding a razor blade, with a slashed wrist and a dress covered in blood. As everyone rushed to escape, KAEDE was bumped into by a heroin addict, falling to the ground where a massive lump of concrete was falling down.

KAEDE reached for her razorblade-

---

Coyote merely watched the chaos. He surveyed the marketplace. People were panicking as they looked for a way out of the burning area. Police officers tried to establish order, but it's hard to keep the peace when somebody's just spontaneously exploded into fragments of bone, flesh, brains and pockets of blood. One of them, a 20-something with blonde hair and a scared disposition, saw Coyote and recognised him as the guy that the APB was on for resisting arrest. He reached for his revolver and fired.

Coyote found himself losing conciousness.

---

Kevin took off his glasses again and hugged the barrier adjacent him, feeling slightly queasy. He avoided contact with anyone and anything, lest he be caught. It would be awkward to find him wearing a jumpsuit formerly worn by a dead man. He drew out a throwing knife from his upper jumpsuit pocket, slightly perplexed by how he knew there was and the fact that there was a knife there in the first place. A light-headed businessman collapsed and fell right next to him.

Kevin and the other man both fell down from the twelfth-story rooftop.

---

Harman Smith gasped for air. Both him and Garcian were in a spacious living room. The furnishings were suprisingly expensive. In the northern side was a flat-screen television that felt like 250". A polished oak coffee table was nestled in the center of the room, with a black leather sofa and chair around it. Beautiful, expensive decor surrounded the living room, from marvelous paintings to magnificent marble sculptures. A certificate hung up in the south-eastern corner of the room seemed to be from a university, an MBA from Columbia University. It appeared to have been addressed to Emir Parkreiner. Mills must have kept it for some reason.

The house had once belonged to Christopher Mills. When the Killer7 began hunting down Kun Lan and the Heaven Smiles in 2010, Mills had been their informant. Mills had been an assassin, but his skills were awful. Information gathering was an easy feat for him, but actually commiting the murders was too hard for him. He squeamed at the sight of his blood when he shaved, so it became natural that whenever he killed someone, he was filled with a disgusted remorse. A true patriot, his New England features and accent made his love for America even more obvious. Despite all this, he was aware that his country was corrupt to the core. After delving into the foundations of his beloved country, an assassination had been placed on him that was to be fulfilled by an assassin with higher skills than Christopher Mills. That means that they had to have killing skills higher than the average frog.

Harman Smith clutched at his throat as Garcian rushed to the kitchen to get a glass of water. His ability to kill people at will was a heavy tax to his energy. He felt deflated, as if he'd gone ten five-minute rounds with a 250-pound bodybuilder in a match of bare-knuckled boxing while being bound to a chair and unable to fight back. Garcian came back with a small glass, to which Harman Smith swilled in two seconds, and let out a sigh of relief.

'Manna from the gods,' Harman Smith said, 'thank you, Garcian.'

'Jesus, what the hell did you do?'

Harman Smith swayed up, found that his legs could not support him and slumped on the sofa. 'I have had the innate ability to detect any of Harman or Kun Lan's minions. That includes the remnants of the Killer7. Coyote, KAEDE and Kevin. They are no longer bound by Harman, as I thought, but they still possess a faint psychological link to him. With that information, I was able to pinpoint their location and activate my ability gained when I was still with Harman.'

'Which was?' Garcian's right eyebrow cocked up.

'I killed them with the power of my thought alone, and I was able to form a psychic copy of them stored inside my mind. This is where you come in.

'I want you to concentrate on me, and do as you would when you resurrect any other of your comrades.'

Garcian wasn't exactly sure whether it would work, but he did so. He focused on Harman, clutching his briefcase, and tried to-

He found himself in a velvet-draped room. Garcian wanted to scream, but for a while he felt as if he had no mouth. He found himself clutching the briefcase, looking at the three heads in paper bags in front of him.

_Concentrate on me... do as you would when you resurrect..._

Garcian walked over to them, opened the briefcase, and stashed the three paper bags inside. He closed the briefcase and his eyes, finding himself back in the living room with Harman Smith, a Puerto Rican thief, a British hermit, and a Japanese-American woman.

Garcian was astonished. Did he just resurrect these three myself? Did we just transport them out of nowhere? Coyote was looking at everyone, his hands trembling and slowly, almost magnetically, moving towards his holster. Kevin remained silent, peering around the room inquisitively. KAEDE let out a high-pitched scream that caused Dan to come rushing down the stairs, Demon Gun loaded and aimed. When he saw what was going on, even he was astonished. His eyes and gun fell on his three former comrades, who responded by pulling out their weapons. Coyote drew his Magnum fast, aiming it at Dan without a second thought. By contrast, Kevin's weapon was unsheathed silently, slowly but carefully. KAEDE was trembling, but her scoped Desert Eagle was raised, aiming at Harman Smith. The man who killed them responded by picking up the Tommy Gun perched on the coffee table and aiming it at KAEDE. Garcian raised his silenced pistol as well, aimed at the arm of the most dangerous one out of the entire group. If anyone could fuck shit up, it was Dan Smith, and his heavily taut relationship with Coyote was going to snap at any moment.

The entire room was filled with an air of hostility. Dan slowly moved forward, his eyes flicking over to Garcian and Harman Smith but his gun focused on Coyote. 'What the hell are they doing here?'

'Missed us, hun?' KAEDE said sarcastically.

'Nah, 'specially not Mr. Jumping Bean here.'

'Watch it, dude,' was the warning of Coyote, 'or I'll blow your fucking brains out.'

'Anyone kills anybody here,' Garcian said, 'I'll kill them for messing up the carpet. Blood ain't that easy to get out, you know.'

'Shut up,' was the unaminous cry of everyone in the room sans Garcian and Kevin, the latter merely staring daggers at the Cleaner.

The room was tense. Everyone's trigger finger was slowly pressing downwards. Eventually, it was KAEDE that dropped her weapon on the sofa, sighing as she did.

'We're going to get nowhere if everyone kills each other. Let's take a while to calm down and think about this.'

Garcian took his pistol back to its holster. Harman Smith dropped the Tommy Gun onto the sofa. Kevin slowly sheathed the throwing knife. Dan and Coyote reluctantly holstered their weapons, yet there was a look in their eyes that assured revenge.

'Now,' Harman Smith said, 'let's get down to business.

'Let us bring the Killer7 back.'


End file.
